Displaced
by Bookjunk
Summary: Over the years, Hicks helps Ripley recover things she thought she'd never feel again.
1. That stupid ache

**Displaced**

**Chapter 1: That stupid ache**

Ripley paid close attention as Hicks explained how to use the grenade launcher. His hands were over hers, showing her what to do. They were just touching. Matter-of-factly, he guided her fingers, adjusted her stance, but she could feel the tension coiled underneath his skin.

She felt him watching her while she listened to his instructions. He sounded relaxed. Her elbow bumped against his chest armour and she expected him to step back. He stayed exactly where he was.

When she glanced at him, she saw that he was almost smiling. Ripley remembered this from a long, long time ago. The way guys would size her up. Hair, face, tits, waist, ass, legs. Hicks's gaze went beyond that.

At first, she'd thought it was a Marine thing, but the others were less attentive. They had each others' back, but Hicks was the only one whose eyes searched for her face after every attack. He checked whether they were all still alive before he did anything else. No, that wasn't right. He confirmed it _while_ he was looking for an exit or getting his equipment in order. It was second nature for him to make sure that everyone was safe.

'You're one hell of a civilian,' he chuckled.

Ripley lowered the M41A pulse rifle slightly and stared at him. Somehow she must have impressed him. By not falling apart, maybe. As if she could afford to.

At least he didn't tell me not to worry, she thought. She appreciated that. She'd been lied to enough to last a lifetime. Still, Hicks was the type of guy who got away with saying that kind of shit. 'Cause he'd make it true if he could.

'Don't bullshit me,' she warned him. 'No offense.'

'None taken.'

The weight of the weapon was starting to be a strain on her shoulder, but she was loath to relinquish it. Not while fear and yearning were mingling in her gut. Goddamn it, this was absolutely not the time or place.

'So kiss me,' she demanded, sort of harsh.

Hicks didn't seem to mind. He moved closer, crossing a distance that wasn't even there. There was no time to notice any of the usual things. She didn't notice his hands, except how they took the gun away. She didn't notice his strong jaw line; she noticed that his jaw wasn't set. She looked into his eyes and saw his desire, not their colour. Appearance was the furthest thing from her mind. Afterwards, she couldn't say whether he was handsome, though she thought he was.

She welcomed him. The feeling of his mouth on hers briefly shut up the ache within her. The beats were off, though. It wasn't hard enough, wasn't quick enough. His lips pressed down, kissing, kissing, kissing. Less lust than unexpected tenderness. Oh God, she realised; he likes me.

His hands moved at a different pace than his lips. Buttons and zippers came undone. His armour got them both frustrated. They yanked until it finally came off. Their skin pulsed when they reconnected. Fingertips fluttered along her thigh as she pulled him to the floor.

Collecting bruises, they chafed against each other. He was kissing her again, so gently that it hurt. Then, fast and hot, he entered. Ripley moaned. It didn't take long. They both wanted it too much.

He sucked in his breath, sharply. His entire face softened for a second. There was something shy and innocent about it and she wondered how the fuck he'd managed to retain that. Right now, she could probably tell _him_ not to worry and he'd believe it because he trusted her.

Ripley stayed on top of him with his warmth wrapped around her. It came to her in a rush: the ache was there because she liked him too.


	2. That teenage feeling

**Chapter 2: That teenage feeling **

A guy to her left was mumbling to himself. Ripley ignored him and slid closer to the window. It was streaked with dirt, inside and out. The rain didn't help. The entire compartment reeked of piss, her seatbelt was broken, she was pretty sure the teenager standing by the door was debating whether or not to mug her; but – fuck it! – it was fast. The little she could see of the traffic outside made it clear that she should be happy that the shuttle was moving at all.

She usually looked forward to the holidays, because it meant she got to see Newt. Now, however, she had just said goodbye to Newt. The next three weeks would be Newt-free and Ripley had no idea how she was going to fill her time. Consequently, her mood was black as the night.

The teenager inched closer to her and Ripley fixed him with a stare. She almost wished for him to try something. After a moment of consideration, he thought better of it.

The badly ventilated air was starting to cause a head ache. The thought of breathing in stale, recycled air made her feel slightly sick. To her immense relief, the shuttle was beginning to slow down. Ripley stretched her legs and got to her feet. She made sure to keep one hand around a pole or something at all times. You never knew with these cheap shuttles. After taking two steps, she stopped abruptly.

Right across the aisle from where she was standing, Hicks was sleeping. A giant green duffel bag in his lap, his hands relaxed at his side: not a care in the world. He looked different, which had less to do with the scars covering the left side of his face than with him wearing something approaching civilian clothes. Bomber jacket, cargo pants and… Chuck Taylors.

Without the standard bulky armour, he wasn't as massive as she had pictured him. Even without the army gear Hicks had an unmistakably military air and he still took up a fair amount of physical space with his imposing frame and strong shoulders. Not that this did anything to deter the sketchy teenager from cautiously inching closer to him.

'Hey! Hey!' she called out, moving towards them. It was slow going. Other passengers were exiting their seats. She bumped into nearly every one of them as she cursed a path through the thronging mass. Bobbing heads got in her way, obscuring her vision, while the shuttle shuddered to a halt.

When she reached them, the teenager was clutching his wrist and backing away from Hicks. Hicks; who was not sparing the boy a glance, but was instead smiling broadly at her.

'You're still protecting me?' he asked. He sounded amused, but also genuinely grateful. Ripley shrugged.

'It looked like you could use some help.'

As they stood there looking at each other, the years since they'd last seen each other fell away. He gave her that same appreciative look and Ripley was suddenly unsure of how to handle herself. She felt clumsy. Her limbs and her mind were only loosely connected.

'This is my stop,' she said. The doors were sliding shut. Seemingly without thinking – and definitely without taking his eyes off her – he stuck his arm in between them. They opened again haltingly and he followed her out.

'How's Newt?'

'She's good. Smart as a whip. A great student. Going places.'

He nodded, as if he had expected nothing less. Ripley was trying to process how it could be that he was walking beside to her now. How had that happened?

They caught each other up on their lives. There was not much to discuss. Ripley had negotiated a settlement with the Company for the four of them. Bishop was presumably still squinting at a slide under a microscope in some lab. Newt's school was paid for in full, whatever she wanted to do. Hicks would always be a Marine. As for herself, driving forklifts, while less fulfilling than her previous assignment, was also decidedly less dangerous.

Awkward chitchat carried them to her apartment. She invited him in. Jonesy, the little traitor, immediately curled himself around Hicks's leg. Hicks dropped his duffel bag and squatted to stroke the cat's back once before openly studying the apartment.

'Coffee?'

Ripley opened the cupboard and eyed its content.

'Black, please,' he murmured in her ear. His proximity startled her. She turned around and there he was. The kitchen was small, but there was no need for him to be quite that close, his body almost flush against hers. Her stomach tautened at the contact with his hard muscles. There was a mischievous glint in his eye.

'Something I can do?' he offered, leaning forward. Her lips found the left corner of his mouth. Teasing, she eased the tip of her tongue inside. It brushed against his tongue, tracing the bottom row of teeth. Treasuring the sharpness, she slid her tongue over his upper teeth too, tickling his smooth gums.

Exploring his mouth, Ripley leaned her body against his. His hands were holding her shoulders. She felt they could have done this for ages. Unhurried, like young lovers, savouring every new sensation, reveling in the taste and touch of him.

A bit shaky, she pulled back and rested her hands on the kitchen counter to steady herself. _Jesus_. Slowly, she prepared the coffee and poured it into two mugs.

'I meant to call you,' she said, facing him.

'I meant to visit you,' he countered, sitting down as she handed him the coffee. 'Thanks.'

They sipped their scalding hot coffee with poker faces. Up close, the scars clashed with the rest of Hicks's sun burnt but relatively flawless skin. The skin grafts didn't appear to be synthetic. Their jagged edges were natural and rough. Appropriate in a strange way.

'Can I ask you something?' she finally said, breaking the silence. He nodded.

'When did you notice me?'

He frowned, contemplating the question.

'When did I _notice_ you? Honestly? Cryo.'

When she looked up at him, he smirked and elaborated. 'You were wearing a grey top, grey…'

'Panties and little else. Yeah, I remember. Love at first sight, huh?'

The curve of her mouth indicated what she thought of that: bullshit. Hicks grinned, ruffling his crew cut in a manner similar to how he'd done when they'd first met.

'I wouldn't call it that, but yeah. You caught my attention,' he admitted. His voice lost its playful quality as he continued.

'After the briefing, I read your report. I remember thinking that anyone who made it through that would have to be pretty special. And the more I got to know you, you know…''

He paused until she looked at him again. Their eyes locked. He smiled the tiniest of smiles.

'Affirmative,' he softly added.

'Hmm,' Ripley muttered, careful to keep her tone noncommittal. Her pulse was racing. Her scalp was tingling. _Jesus Christ. _

Calmly, she drained her mug and glanced at the bedroom door. Hicks followed her gaze. He was still smiling. Still giving her that familiar look, making her feel as if she'd never done this before. Ripley was beginning to think that he might be right.


	3. That kind of lonely

**Chapter 3: That kind of lonely**

Newt shouted that she was going.

'Bye, honey!' Ripley yelled back. Hurrying in the morning was par for the course when you had to share a bathroom with a teenage girl. If she wanted to make it to work on time, she would have to skip breakfast. Quickly, she shampooed her hair.

There was a loud knock on the door. Ripley cursed, rinsed out the shampoo and stepped out of the shower. While turning off the water, she looked around for her bathrobe. It was nowhere to be seen. She swore again. Newt was forever borrowing it, even though she had a perfectly fine bathrobe of her own.

Another knock.

'Yeah, I'm coming. Give me a second.'

Finally, she simply snatched a towel off the top of the stack and covered herself up as best she could. She was so busy making sure that she would look halfway decent that she didn't consider who could be at the door. It was Hicks.

After taking one look at Ripley's dripping hair and bare legs, he dropped his duffel bag. He walked her inside, the air between them crackling with heat, her feet slippery as she walked backwards. He kicked the door closed. Before she knew it she was pressed up against the fridge. Hicks kissed her once and then, breathless, trembling, restrained himself.

'Is this okay?'

Ripley responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. He smiled and kissed her again. It reminded her of all the other kisses they'd shared.

The first one; satisfying a hunger unreal in its intensity and of course accompanied by the near certainty that they weren't going to survive.

The second one. Casual. _Natural_. Already familiar, even though she hadn't seen him for years at that point.

The third, the fourth, the fifth, on and on until she had lost count. His hands on her body, exploring while he seemed to know exactly what she liked and how she liked it. So, not an exploration at all. More of a confirmation.

Yet, always there was something new and different about it too. As if she couldn't get over the way his tongue brushed against hers, the way his lips curled into a smile. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the smell of his sweat. There was something so manly about that, which excited her beyond words.

Hicks tangled his hands in her hair. His lips were soft as he placed them on her throat, reverently. It made her feel uneasy and fantastic at the same time. His hands trailed down her sides to her waist, grabbed her hips. They made their way to the bedroom, shedding towel and clothes on their way there.

His touch was hot. Whenever, wherever, he touched her, she felt like melting. Instead, she burned. Touched him in the same places, enjoying the look on his face. And God, it _was_ a handsome face. It seemed almost impossible than she had failed to see that the first time.

Every feature, every muscle and scar came together to form this amazing man. Not someone you'd see on a flickering billboard. Someone real, tangible. With mileage on him and lines in his face to go with it. Ripley thought that he was more attractive because of it.

Hicks was beautiful. It was a thing she could only really understand up close, while they were making love. While they were lying in each others' arms. It wasn't abstract or objective. Not a conclusion reached after careful consideration. It was just there. Filling her up with its warmth.

'How was the mission?' she asked. She tried to keep the feeling, tried to hold onto it, but it was fading.

'Successful. How's work?'

'Boring. When you say successful, you mean…'

'No one died,' he said, matter-of-factly. Ripley must have flinched at that, because his expression immediately softened. She allowed him to pull her into a hug.

'Hey, that won't happen. No dying for me,' Hicks whispered. She kissed him to get rid of the dread in her gut. Also, to get that beauty back. She was tired of feeling detached. Subjectivity: that was the way to go. Feeling like Hicks was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She started to push him down on the bed, but he stopped her.

'I only had a few hours before redeployment. I have to leave,' he admitted. The regret was plain in his voice, but she tried not to show that she felt it too.

'That's okay. I'm late for work anyway.'

They dressed in silence. At the door, he leaned in and kissed her.

'Don't worry,' he insisted. It was less of a comforting 'I will be alright' than a thoughtful 'I might not be alright, but I don't want you to worry about me.' It was… sweet. She closed the door. And felt empty.


End file.
